PTER III.

THE TRUNDLE-BED.

They were all very sorry to have Caleb go away, for he had lived in the
family a great many years, and was always good-natured and obliging.

"But since he has turned out to be a thief, of course we don't want him
here," said Seth.

"How can you speak so, my son?" said his mother, reprovingly. "You do
not really know any harm of Caleb. Remember what the Bible says, 'Judge
not, that ye be not judged.'

"Why, mother, who judged Caleb? Who ever accused him of stealing? I
should think he judged himself--shouldn't you? When a man runs away as
he did, it looks very much as if he was guilty."

"O, no," said gentle Love, who was knitting "double mittens" in the
corner; "that isn't a sure sign at all. I dare say he went away because
he was unhappy. How would _you_ like to live with people that don't
trust you? Why, Seth, you couldn't bear it, I'm sure."

"I wish Caleb didn't go off," said Willy; "he was a-going to give me a
rabbit."

"Well," said Stephen, in a teasing tone, "he wouldn't have gone off if
it hadn't been for you, Master Willy! You said he wanted father's money,
you know, and that was what put us to thinking."

"O, yes, he telled me he wanted it," cried the little fellow stoutly.

"Willy, Willy, you should be more careful in repeating other people's
words," said Mrs. Parlin, looking up from the jacket she was making.
"Little boys like you are so apt to make mistakes, that they ought to
say, 'Perhaps,' or, 'I think so,' and never be too sure."

"Then I'm not sure; but _perhaps_ I know, and I _guess_ I think so real
hard."

"That's right, little Pawnee Indian," laughed Stephen. "Indians like you
always stick fast to an idea when they once get hold of it."

"I'm not an Indian," said Willy, ready to cry; "and I never said Caleb
stealed; 'twas you said so; you know you did."

It grew very cold that winter, about "Christmas-tide," and one night the
wind howled and shrieked, while up in the sky the moon and stars seemed
to shiver and shine like so many icicles. Willy had been put to bed at
the usual time, and nicely tucked in, and it was nearly half past eight,
the time for him to begin his wanderings. Lydia sat by the kitchen
fireplace, comforting herself with hot ginger tea.

"It would be too bad for that little creetur to get out of bed such a
night as this," thought she; "I'm going in to see if he has enough
clothes on. Who knows but his dear little nose is about _fruz_